


Black Parade

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, House Stark, Kings & Queens, Lord Rickon, Lord of Winterfell, Prince Bran, Prince Jon, Prince Rickon, Princes & Princesses, Princess Arya, Queen Sansa, Queen in the North, The North remembers, The North will never forget, War Of The Five Kings, Winter, Winterfell, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were all one and the same. They all walked the same road, no matter the consequences. They all walked the road of the righteous. They were the Kings and Queens of Promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Parade

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to make stories where Sansa isn't my main character, so I tried to even it out... sorta.

There are many stories, of the Kings and Queens of Promise. There are stories of King Robb, the valiant king of kings. There are stories of Prince Jon, the loyal warrior of the North, Wall, and South. There are stories of the thrice Queen Sansa, who was meant to rule the South, succeeded with the North, and then conquered the Iron Throne. There are stories of Prince Bran, who despite his broken legs succeeded to rule the mystical world. There are stories of Princess Arya, the deadliest of assassins. There are stories of Prince Rickon, who adapted to the world around him at each and every turn.

 

But there are no stories that say, that they are all one in the same.

 

The Leader

 

The Soldier

 

The Ruler

The Shapeshifter

The Assassin

 

The Survivor

The Leader led his men, to reek havoc over those that wronged his family. Even as his body filled with arrows and the life within him faded away, he knew he had not lost, as there was hope still alive.

 

The Soldier deserted the Wall to fight and protect his sister as she burned the world with her vengeance. He twisted and turned and slaughtered and forgave at every step. Even when the sword slashed through his armor and the blood pooled around his body, he knew he had not lost, as there was hope still alive.

 

The Ruler bided her time. Even as the man she’d once claimed to love beat her down and broke her spirit, she waited. Even when Littlefinger forced his way into her bed, she waited. Even after she pushed him through the moon door, she waited. Until the time came for her to reveal herself to the North. The men fell to their knees before her willingly, clinging to the last dark they believed alive. They cut through the turncloaks with practiced ease and they did not stop at the border. Ready to escape the cruelty of the Lannisters, people flocked to her. Even when her brother fell, and she pressed her hand to his, she knew she had not lost, as there was hope still alive.

 

The Shapeshifter kept to the shadows, careful to step in only when necessary. In the shadows he watched, every deed, every movement. From the shadows he cried for his brothers and younger sister and rejoiced for his elder sister. He wept and he screamed that he could not reveal himself to them, but he would care for them, he would protect them from forces they would never even know about. He knew he had not lost, as there was hope still alive.

 

The Assassin remained a ghost, drifting in and out of lives with practiced ease. She wasn’t the child she used to be. Reciting the list over and over she screamed for the lives lost. With a reluctant goodbye, she left her sister queen. She knew she had not lost, as there was hope still alive.

 

The Survivor adapted, as he’d always done and always would. He’d adapted when he’d been forced to leave Winterfell after Theon took it over. He adapted to life North of the Wall. He adapted back to Winterfell with his sister. He adapted to life without his sister when she went South to claim the Iron Throne. He adapted to life as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Throughout his life, he did not lose hope, as there was always hope still alive.

 

As long as there was a Stark, there was hope. Because every Stark was a leader, soldier, ruler, shapeshifter, assassin, and most all, every Stark was a Survivor.

 

They were all one and the same. They all walked the same road, no matter the consequences. They all walked the road of the righteous. They were the Kings and Queens of Promise.

 

So they all march in their black parade, with promised death, in Winter’s day, but still they are the children of Winter; so, even as they fall, their spirits linger.


End file.
